


Knight's Tales: Konur Sinclair

by Farstrider



Category: Star Wars: The Old Republic
Genre: F/M, M/M, Mind Control, Multi, NSFW, Sickness, Spoilers, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-22
Updated: 2013-05-23
Packaged: 2017-12-12 15:11:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/812965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Farstrider/pseuds/Farstrider
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone starts somewhere. Some are born to greatness, others have it thrust upon them. This is a collection of stories circling around one such person. Konur Sinclair, a Jedi Knight of the Republic. Follow him in his struggles with who he is, where he's been, and the calling of the Force.  Along the way he learns what it means to be a Hero, a Monster, and to find Balance within the Force and Himself. </p>
<p>Originally posted on my tumblr, gathered here in rough chronological order.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. These Streets of Nar Shaddaa

**Author's Note:**

> You can find other writings, shorts, and pictures of Kon over at WorstJediEver.Tumblr.com/tagged/Konur. As time goes on any interaction with other's SWTOR OC's will be mentioned and linked so you can go fawn over their work like I do.
> 
> This chapter is the beginning, a look at the life Konur started out with before the Jedi became involved in his life.

The ‘morning’ started early, just after some of the bars closed for a few hours and most people started their way to first shift at the loading docks. When the air was cool and the taste of the exhaust from thousands of speeders was the only thing stuck on the tongue.

Some bars had dumpsters - you start there but hope the bouncers aren’t watching too close - some of the food is still edible. Go for things that aren’t saucy, they won’t last well in his bag on the way back to the others, and they tend to make people sick.

Wander some of the streets with fewer cameras and bump into the drunk wayfarers wandering back to the space port or back to their hotel. A quick dip into a pocket for a few wallets, a hand full of creds, once and a while someone’s underwear. You learn which streets and which marks you can go for quick if the Enforcers don’t inform you of it. He doesn’t want to get picked up…he knows what they’ll use him for.

On the way back he runs afoul Imps - drunk, armed, pretentious and pugnacious - and ends up having to run. His gut tells him when to dodge and when to weave to avoid the zip and ping of blaster fire behind him. The officer’s wallet is clutched tight in his hand. It’s fat and full of things he could use more than the pudgy officer he stole it from.

Kicking over a garbage can buys him a few seconds, another few when he dodged between some Nikto who became a quick road block. The credits empty into his bag and he pulls out as many cards as he can on the run before dropping his prize and making for the pipes. His hands sting when they hit a hot one but he can’t afford to stop now. Shimmying up the pipe, bound over to another crate, swing up to a catwalk, run along a street sign…the angry shouts soon fade as he out paces them and leaves the red light sector behind.

The ride home is on the back of a cargo hover droid, hanging on the access ladder and munching on a half eaten nurf burger bun gives him time to think. It isn’t so much what the food is as much as it is food. He wouldn’t eat anything if he wasn’t sure he’d need it for the next stop. On a whim he digs into the stuff he took from the Fat Imp and finds a gold mine…

An access card… and a hastily scribbled note tucked between a few cards with a pass code. He knows the sector written on the card and he hangs onto the droid until it gets close and drops off onto a catwalk.

It was a risk… a horrible terrible risk… if he failed he’d get killed. If he failed those who depended on him might not make it through the day. He didn’t know where the sickness came from but it had claimed four already and there were seven more back at the den sick and probably a few who hadn’t shown the obvious signs of the illness yet.

The Imps watch their stuff close but this early not close enough. The shifts haven’t changed just yet so the graveyarders are still up and in dire need of stimcaf or bed. He has to climb up more pipes to get to a spot to drop down behind the aid station. The droid is looking over an injured soldier so it isn’t watching the back door to the station like a hawk. The card goes thru cleanly but he almost misses the timer on the pin pad because he doesn’t know if that’s a five or a seven…

The door unlocks and slides aside and a grin splits his scarred face - Jackpot.

He can read enough to know what an inoculation adrenal is and knows what the sickness is called so he can find the right one. He clears almost the whole shelf because he needs space for the rest. Kolto packs, military stims they can sell, immunizers and bandages. He tightens his belt so he can shove ration packs down his shirt because his bag is full.

“OI!” He has a ration pack between his teeth as he turns to face the trooper with their gun raised. Gold eyes go wide in surprise before he ducks to get out of the storage room. The blaster bolt hits him right in the shoulder, making him scream.

“Leave me alone!” he growls as he stares the faceless helmet down. He wills the action to his words and the guard freezes, caught in his gaze. The gun lowers and he doesn’t know why but he sure as hell doesn’t hang around to ask questions.

He runs, not looking back, not thinking about the imps behind him and the blasterbolts around him he just runs. He takes longer to get home than he should to make sure he ditched them, to be sure they don’t know where he’s going. His shoulder is numb and his gut is knotting hard by the time he slips into the den.

The place reeks of death and shit and sickness. Those who stayed come to meet him with expectant, hungry, dirty faces. He hits all he can with the immunizers, hoping it’ll keep him from losing more. He doles out the food but hordes the credits they might need them.

In the back where the truly sick are he risks infection by bringing them water from the storm pipes and some of the stims. Swolen stomachs, bloody mouths, yellowed eyes.. half don’t see him past the misery they are in, only cry and whimper and wail in pain. Two doses are lethal… because there is nothing he can do for them.

So he sits with the two - a seven and an eleven year old - and he holds their hands and talks about the better place they are going to. A place of plenty of food and clean water and warm sun and blue skies because he heard places have blue skies. He tells them the others who went before will be there and they shouldn’t wait up for him to join them.

They both pass - first the younger one face smothered in tears and sores than the elder one with a smile on blooded lips - and he wastes two blankets to wrap them up and take them down to lower parts of the building.

By day’s end another one dies - horrific screaming, blood everywhere, violent convulsions and a sick horrid gurgle…there are four more sick like this… and five more he has to tend to…the older kids have already left, no one over the age of 15 has stayed.

Besides him anyway.

“Leave everything.” he orders to who remain. “We’re moving on.”

They all clamor about those still sick, those still here. They chatter and whine about the siblings or the friends that can’t move on with out them. A hard glare shuts them up and soon they are off to go buy stuff from the thrift store and meet up at another safe place.

He doesn’t feel the sting of the burn in his shoulder as he moves the remaining sick children to a better spot, to the beds they’ve been denied because of the illness, to the room with the bigger hole so they can watch the city go about it business.

He stays with them, after using the last of the stims, and he holds hands and wipes brows and he even sings. It isn’t a pretty sounding thing, his voice isn’t that nice, but it soothes some as they slip through his fingers.

He doesn’t tell anyone he feels each death… he can feel them pass from the living world like a wound being torn open then going numb.

He finds some poor bastard spacer who got himself shot in a gutter with most of his stuff still on him. He tosses his clothing into burning barrel as he adjusts the new clothing on his too small body. He doesn’t know how he knows to avoid sickness or why he doesn’t get sick but he doesn’t ask either.

A lone fifteen year old boy with scars running from the corners of his lips walks the streets of Nar Shaddaa, hands shoved in his pockets and his head down, his mind on how to survive just one more day in the city of twilight.


	2. Fact: Everyone Leaves - He Remains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Konur thinks about one fact of life that's been surrounding him since day one. Everyone leaves, one way or another, but he always remains. Now he's leaving Nar Shaddaa behind. 
> 
> Told somewhat from his perspective.

Everybody leaves. It’s a fact of life.

The other fact… he’s still here.

They go somewhere else and don’t come back or they get dead.

Go to the wrong sector looking for some scratch and try and take from the wrong people. Sometimes the wrong people take them. They go off world or sent across world.

He’s seen a few of them - dressed up pretty and skimpy on the bridges of pleasure barges as they went by or in the windows of the Red Light district. He never got into the dance clubs, bouncers too big. Empty eyes, sometimes drugged up so they weren’t there, easy to handle or make do whatever. Hanging on someone’s arm laughing or bent over a rail, eyes empty, minds somewhere far away with their new master doing whatever they pleased.

Sometimes it wasn’t even their owner… sometimes just a tourist. A visitor here caught in the lights and the action and the hype. They came and went too, most times with less than they came with.

Sometimes he got some of that… sometimes not. Enforcers didn’t like people mugging tourists, bad for business. Got you broken legs or worse…could end you up dead… could end you up on one of those barges.

People who did business on Nar Shadda came and went. Some more often than others. You avoided bars where the bigger ones - hunters mostly - gathered to do their thing. Sometimes you hung out if you could help, offer intel, but they had crews and it was hard to get on one.

You stayed away from Imps and Reps and Sabers. Fast way to get dead or taken was to mess with them and their little war. Wasn’t a big out loud war after a while… but it was still a war.

The first gone… after Fortuna… was Copper. Wasn’t her name but it’s what they called her. The gang he ran with picked her up. Smart, spirited, fast. She picked up scrapping quick, taking things apart to sell. She knew a life once off the streets. Told him of a world full of storms and jungles. Stories of shining cities in the rain. She pitied him a bit. He wasn’t stupid but he trusted his gut more than anything else. Even logic. Good in a fight though. That was what they had him for anyway. He knew his place and he was gunna stay there and that was that. Copper hated that about him but was glad for it at the same time.

Copper didn’t like being where they were. Always went for the challenge. Bigger hauls, harder takes, that’s what she liked. She went for the wrong target - he told her no Force Users and nothing from the space port - but she wanted to try it anyway.

The Sabers took her away. Didn’t catch him. Too fast, too used to hiding but he watched all the same as they loaded her up on their ship and went off world.

The sickness got some of the others - some Crime Lord or Sith playing games with the lesser people of the streets. Testing a weapon. It was in the food and the water. He didn’t eat for days. When he did he stole from Imps. Got a broken arm for it but it wasn’t tainted. Lost seven of the little ones to it. Long nights in agony, crying, bellies swollen big, shittin blood and throwing up chunks of their insides. He stole kolto or used things Fortuna used to use to keep her little ones healthy so she could keep taking their power… but it didn’t do much, maybe eased some hurt.

He still hears their crying in his sleep some nights. Has trouble eating after dreams of those days.

They abandoned the place they had been hiding. Hutts burned it down a few weeks later when they found the bodies.

Next the Hunters came for Mako. Smart girl - best slicer in the sector. She acted like she knew better than this life once, or maybe was just smart enough to know she could do better. Tried teaching him things and it worked sometimes. A raid by Hutt enforcers got a bunch of the gang but not them. He knew ahead of time. Felt it. The others wouldn’t listen so he took who would. They ran across Hunters a few weeks later, hired Mako for a job. Got good pay for it too.

Then they offered to take her off world. She jumped at it. He told her to. Said he’d keep the others safe till she came back.

She didn’t make it back in time. The Slavers came first.

Knocked over the hide out, whoever they didn’t kill they took. They had some Kings running with them. Said they were ‘cleaning up their sector of pink skinned filth’. Fitted everyone with collars and packed em in crates ready to ship off world. Any like him, who felt things, were gunna be sold to the Sith. To some place called Korriban. They made the mistake of taking some Rep uniforms… soldiers or maybe a diplomat… called the Reps in to bust em out. Brought Sabers with them.

Brought Kess’ari…he remembered her. She was the first person to ever leave and come back. Was there before things fell out with Fortuna. Before he got cut and got the scarred smile on his face. Back when he was drained dry of his feelings by an old witch. Back when he picked pockets until he picked the wrong one and met her. She remembered him, said his name like she had the day she got it out of him at a food cart when she bought him all the food he could eat and he tested her to see how much she'd really spend. Then Fortuna found out... and he got left behind...and scarred... He didn't like thinking about Fortuna. Made his face hurt.

Kess'ari argued with the Rep uniforms to take him with her, onto her ship, into her care. It was the Will of the Force that she be the one to take him to the Order. This wasn’t their first meeting, she told them. They didn’t like it but they knew the rule.

Don’t argue with a Saber.

First chance he got when she turned his back was to find a place to hide. He was good at it. Found a spot that was kinda warm near the environmental systems that was hard to reach and he stayed there. Still and Quiet and waited to see what happened.

There are deeper memories…more sensory than anything. Long dark hair, bright yellow eyes, the smell of cordite and flowers. A soft voice humming a sad song he hums to himself now and again. He doesn’t know where it came from but on long nights alone it helps. He remembers an alley way, and running… being covered in cardboard boxes and hidden away.

“You stay quiet… stay still and quiet and don’t move until Mommy comes back ok? That’s a good boy. Mommy will be back.”

He remembers her back to him as she left. The way the lights shined off her hair and shock collar, how thin she was, how she smiled at him in his hiding spot before she ran off.

He stayed put. Like a good boy he stayed still and quiet and waited.

Even after the scream a few blocks down… and the blaster fire. He stayed still. He stayed quiet. He waited.

They never come back.

He's never been the one to leave before. He tells his kids who are going to go to some place called Dantooine that they should stick together. He tells the older boys they are the men now and to take care of the little ones. He tells the girls that if anyone ever pulls anything funny on them to aim for soft spots and scream as hard as they can. He makes sure the Unis and the Saber and every adult can hear him say it too. When he looks at them they know he'll come looking if he ever finds out they tried something. 

He makes no promises to see them again. Everyone knows once a Saber takes you there is no coming back.

Hidden up in the belly of a ship traveling through space he hugs his knees tighter and tries not to cry because for the first time in years he's all alone again.

He's going to be a Saber now...and there is no going back.


	3. Sleeping Arrangements

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Konur acclimates to yet another new environment - The Jedi Temple on Tython. What happened between Now and Before he doesn't want to think about... and he isn't getting much sleep. Thankfully he's found a new friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Doing a bit of a time skip. Don't worry, all you few people who care about Master Kess'ari and the awkward teenage years - That will be a separate series and a lot more coherent. 
> 
> Mentions of Same Sex romances and the stuff that happens with adults in beds.

Konur isn’t sure why it’s much better to sleep in a bed with someone; it just is. He could take the time to explain he hated being alone, that the idea of a whole room to yourself and waking up alone wasn’t something he could deal with. Not so soon after being taken from the only place he knew as home. That would require him to tell someone what’s going on in his head and he didn’t do that sort of thing.

It is too soon. He still closes his eyes at night and sees the red blades falling and hears that horrid scream. Still remembers the feel of big hands pulling him back to retreat. Still feels a life snuffed out and it hurts more than any other he's felt so far.

It was fine anyway. She just knew. It was something the street kid who was having a hell of a time acclimating to the Jedi temple liked. All the Nature and the Openness and the clean lines and the feeling of Peace… all the people looking at him and wondering… he doesn’t like it. Wondering where he came from, what happened to his master, why they advanced him in combat training yet sits with students half his age in regular studies...

Why Jazira started hanging out with him the Force only knew and he was grateful. He hadn't been on Tython but a day before bumping into the attractive and persuasive young Padawan. A once in a generation talent, they called her. Silvery gray eyes, brown hair, a smile to charm the pants off almost anyone. Jazira is gorgeous - right hip to bust ratio, just enough muscles, an easy laugh and a hell of a kisser - and she knows it. She had all the Smuggler's Swagger but still brow beat anyone who gave Konur shit with the talent inherent in a Jedi. Her words were her weapon... if she didn't feel inclined to throw rocks. She latched onto him and he hadn't known what to say but suddenly he was one of hers and that meant something. It meant the stares stopped being focused on him. They see him with her and assume a lot of things but the focus is on her and her plans.

Just how she intends it. Just how he likes it. "Let them think we're fucking" She told him once with a casual shrug as she tried to help him with an assignment. "It means less harassment for you and it's expected of me. You don't have to, by the way, I know I'm not your type."

He never asks how she knows. Not much of a point to it though if he were inclined it might have been nice. It's too soon after everything and she knows it. She feels safe. She feels steady. She's like him - an outcast, a stranger, different - and he's grateful. She knows how things work here, shows him the ropes, and when evening falls her small single room’s door is always open to him to join her. No questions asked. No strings. One day he’ll get over it but for now this is the arrangement.

Her body pressed against his is different than what he’s used to. Soft curves, smooth skin, a sweet scent that permeates the sheets. He likes her breasts though – they make great pillows – and she laughs when he snuggles right into them to sleep. She dubbed it his happy place and he won’t complain. He can hear her heart beat and her breathing, the slight hum she makes when she reads long into the night and he just feels relaxed enough to sleep. Her heat is different too and in the morning it’s him poking her in the side with nothing reciprocating save the occasional data pad in the bed.

He misses Kai’s thick arms and broad shoulders, his big muscled chest and the thump of his heart under his ear. He misses the chest hair that tickled and the snoring when the big man was just that tired. He missed the impossible heat such a large muscular body could generate or how he liked being the little spoon because it felt safe. Kai always felt safe. He liked sparing physically with the big man too. He didn’t hold back, always pushed just far enough… and was there to patch up people on the other side. He was the one who fed him, taught him how to cook and show how he cared through food. He was gentle too, more than Kon ever thought he deserved, when they crossed the line to intimacy.

Drake had no concept of personal space. He destroyed personal space. He had a hugging campaign that he implemented the first week Kon was on board Faith and after being hit a few times, several snarls and Kon locking himself in a closet once he got used to the former Imp randomly passing by to offer a casual touch. He became accustomed to having the lithe man drape over his shoulders; peak over at what he was doing, pulling Kon into his lap… those sorts of things. He got used to the touching too, to the wandering hands in the middle of the night or the good morning blowjob. Drake and Kai were an item… they were perfect for each other but opened their hearts, their bed, to him.

Now they were gone… not dead just… the Council made it clear he was to have no contact until he was a Knight. They hoped that time here on his own would help get that out of his system.

Get losing Kess'ari out of his system and her unorthodox ways. Get being taken from the people who showed him everything out of his system. His past, his savagery in combat, his grief... get over all of it to be welcomed into the arms of the Order and become a Proper Jedi.

The data pad goes dark and is set aside as Jazz wraps her arms around his back, kneading is tight shoulder muscles.

“Think any harder you’re gunna get a cramp.” She whispers and he grunts out a little laugh, burrows in her chest and breaths deep. He finds her heart beat and listens, lets everything else go as they arrange their limbs to get comfortable.

Sleep is long in coming… but its fine…it isn’t alone.


	4. Peace of Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being friends with Jazira has it's odd benefits including time away from the Temple. They are supposed to be meditating on the Force. It's not exactly what Jazira has in mind.

Meditation was part of the daily life of a Jedi. To be in tune with the Force, with the flow of life, was as important to a Jedi as breathing. Often many students were found in the Meditation chambers of the Temple. One had to be an exceptional student and a lot of trust was needed to be permitted to wander out into the wilds of Tython to seek out the Force. With the threat of the Flesh Raiders and the other predators you really had to be a strong Padawan to be let loose on your own.

Or you had to be Jazira, as Konur was learning, and know just how to talk to people.

The pair had been permitted to wander deep into the Gnarls, follow a hidden mountain path to a lazy bend in the river near a cascade of step waterfalls and big trees for shade. Four days they said they would be away, part of ‘attuning to Tython’, she had said, and gotten permission so long as they stayed together and checked in half way through the trip.

Konur was learning her real reasoning as she levitated some flat rocks off of a cliff side and down near the water’s edge, arranging them in such a way to make a platform to lay out a large towel. Her robe hung on a branch near the tents, the usually covered woman in little more than a pair of short shorts and a bikini top.

She'd just wanted some time to herself... and dragged him along figuring some nature would do the City World Born some good. Or maybe she hoped to catch him shirtless. It was hard to know with her sometimes.

“So this is part of meditating huh?” He said as she laid on her stomach with a holo reader and the latest ‘Friend Fiction’ draft she’d been working on. Her feet kicked in the air lazily and she looked over at him over the edge of a pair of sun glasses.

“Hey its part of attuning to Tython. I mean look at me.” she gestured to herself. “I am almost as white as some of the paper archives in the Library. It's flat out wrong.” She turned her attention back to her reading. “We do enough of actual training already. A stressed mind becomes weak and can fall to the pitfalls of the Dark Side. If we’re relaxed and slightly less likely to be used as a landing beacon it can only improve our training when we get back.”

“I suppose you are right.” Kon shrugged and pulled out a case he brought with him. He assembled what he needed, chose carefully from his assortment of lures and bait before hefting his rod and casting into the clear water. As a child he'd never done this but he'd learned a little of it from his time on board the _Faith_. A week on Tython  and he'd developed a deeper love for the… quietness of fishing. It was meditation in its own way… the sound of the wind in the trees, the ripple of water down the river… it all had a calming effect.

_The Force is everywhere, in everything, all you have to do is be at peace to find it._ _When you do it will show you the way_.

It had been a common thing for Master Kess to say to him. Find the Peace within. Stand in the Eye of the Maelstrom and all would become clear. He'd never taken well to meditation like they wanted to teach here. Hours upon hours of sitting and contemplating and breathing. His meditation had always been the Run or Sparring or being part of Nature and observing it. _Nature has it's lessons if you're willing to listen_ , Kess said, _and so too does the Force_. _It will always guide you down the paths you must go but only be clear if you are in harmony with it._

He wasn't sure he'd find Peace again. Not with what he'd lost. Not with what the Council and the teachers at the Temple pushed him with. Out here though amid the smell of clean water, the gentle breeze, the sound of Jazz typing away at her next sensational work and the feel of a bite on his line... maybe just maybe he'd find his place on Tython. Maybe not peace, that would be a long time coming he figured, but where he stood at the beginning of his new path.

Maybe then he could find Peace.


	5. Catharsis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liam Dentiri has one job - Test new Jedi Padawans on their trials to see if they can be given commands in the Field and how lessons are doing to prepare students for combat with enemy forces. There's just one problem and his name is Konur.

Liam Dentiri loathes and looks forward to every time Konur runs by. There are many students who he tests on his droids. Some of them even stick around after to try and help to fix them. Some don’t do too well against the droids but they always have healers on hand. He has to evaluate each and every one of them, score them for their apptitude, and send the information off to their masters to say if their student is or isn't capable of handling real life combat situations against the Empire and other forces and if they are capable of command.

Konur on the other hand just shrugs and accepts his challenge as it is at face value, regardless of what Liam might say to Master Orgus. Liam watches the Knight to be throw himself into combat as soon as the droids de-cloak, seemingly not even bothering to think up a strategy or make a plan. Just sees his target and lunges for it. There is a plan in there somewhere. Liam is sure of it. Which one he picks first, or where to hit the droid. There has to be some reasoning behind the wild flailing of his blade or the at times acrobatic feints and evasions.

What infuriates Liam the most is how the kid walks back up to him, claps him on the shoulder, blood seeping out of his nose or bruise blooming on his jaw, smiles and says: “Better luck next time.”

He has to know how it… irks Liam to seen him swagger off with a pleased grin. He builds them tougher, better programming, more tactics, better armaments…just to be ready for Konur’s assault. He's had plenty of training before he arrived on Tython, it's evident in every move he makes, but he could ate least pretend to understand the nature of the test and not treat it as a chance to beat up his pride.

Maybe Liam was reading too much into it... or maybe he was beginning to loath the kid.

The droids aren’t always programmed to be careful with a student. They’re supposed to simulate the enemy. They aren’t gentle with him. With the scrap piles he leaves behind, Konur isn’t careful with them either. He isn’t with any padawans he’s pitted against in duels too. Some of them don’t walk off the field unassisted. It gives a lot of the Sage trainees practice and so far has not earned him many friends. A week ago he was banned from armed practice against anyone that wasn't already knighted. Try as the masters might there was no restraining him. He didn't know how to hold back or he simply didn't care to.

A younger student once commented ‘It is like sicking a junk yard akk dog on something’. Liam was sure Konur heard it the way his shoulders tensed. He half expected to hear a growl. He has to admit though it’s… kind of true. No one defended Konur…not even himself.

The student who made the comment though did end up missing all of his uniforms, cot short sheeted, and on an inspection found to have some very…ahem explicit contraband entertainment holos in his belongings. Konur wasn’t the kind to take this sort of revenge; however, he had at least one friend who was.

No one had proof yet but Liam had theories. He knew Konur had one friend who could pull enough strings and get away with it without enough proof to get her in trouble. She was also one of the students who watched Konur and refused to participate in Liam's tests. One day she'll find trouble she can't bat her eyelashes out of.

“I’m sure this time… this time will be different!” Liam tells the dark haired young man as he walks up to take on the next challenge.

“We’ll see.” Kon grins lopsidedly, tugging at his scruffy jaw and broad scars and saunters off to the training grounds.

“You know he does it to push you?” Master Orgus says to his friend as they watch the melee. Liam digests that as they watch the Nar Shaddaa native tear into half a dozen droids savagely. “Also does it to push himself, maybe a bit of catharsis too.” The old master sounds proud at that, maybe sees a bit of himself in his newest student.

"He can't do that against a living opponent." Liam huffs as he takes notes on the performance.

"He knows the difference far better than you think."

When Konur returns to Liam ten minutes later with bumps, bruises, and possibly a broken finger he just smiles and hands him the control unit from one of the droids.

“Better luck next time.”

“I’ll get you one of these days.” Liam points a shaking finger at the padawan who just smiles back and nods.

“I know.”


End file.
